


Location

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Grinding, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Daichi’s very sure that no one would expect to find him where he is: in the darkest corner around the main gym, hidden by shadows so deep they might as well be a curtain, pinning Nekoma’s captain to the wall by the hold Daichi has on his shoulders and the press of their hips together." Daichi and Kuroo linger where they shouldn't be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Location

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceromanoffs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=aceromanoffs).



This is not where Daichi is supposed to be.

It’s not as if his options are particularly limited. There’s the baths, currently occupied by Kageyama and Hinata and probably Tsukishima and Yamaguchi too, at this point in the evening. Nishinoya and Tanaka are still eating whatever remains from dinner, and Sugawara is likely back in the bedroom, maybe with Ennoshita for company. Daichi could be any of these places, could have his choice of comfort or food or sleep, could even perhaps be practicing late into the night like Fukurodani’s indefatigable captain and his tolerant setter.

He’s very sure that no one would expect to find him where he is: in the darkest corner around the main gym, hidden by shadows so deep they might as well be a curtain, pinning Nekoma’s captain to the wall by the hold Daichi has on his shoulders and the press of their hips together.

“You’re pretty good at this, Sawamura,” Kuroo says when Daichi pulls away from kissing him long enough to fill his lungs with the summertime warmth of the night air. It’s progress, this admission; when they started fifteen minutes ago it was all taunting comments intended to draw Daichi in closer, to persuade him into something absurd and hasty. But Daichi’s got the upper hand, now, is pretty sure he had it as soon as his hands landed on Kuroo’s shoulders and his mouth on Kuroo’s lips, and now Kuroo can’t even manage to make it through his sentence without his voice shivering uncontrollably in his throat.

“So are you,” Daichi purrs back, letting his voice drop to a shadowy weight that drags the cover of night closer around them. “You must practice all the time.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Oh no,” he says. Daichi gets his fingers under Kuroo’s shirt, pushes up over the trembling tension along his stomach; Kuroo’s head goes back against the wall, his voice dropping into strain as his spine arches. “I’m...just a natural.”

“Sure you are,” Daichi agrees, his words capitulation while his voice carries skepticism, and slides his hand higher to drag friction across the smooth lines of Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo’s breathing catches under Daichi’s touch, his hand tightens at the back of Daichi’s neck; when he rocks his hips up it’s a fluid motion, a liquid arc of his shoulders and back and legs to grind his cock hard against Daichi’s thigh.

“Shit,” Kuroo manages, his voice hissing over the sound so the weight of heat on the word is muffled into a whisper instead of the moan it wants to be. “You’re a tease, Sawamura.”

“You’re wrong,” Daichi tells him, and presses in closer, fits his knee between Kuroo’s and his fingers across the curve of the other’s waist while he ducks his head to kiss against the straining tension in Kuroo’s neck. Kuroo shudders against the wall, the tremor running through his whole body, and his free hand drops to Daichi’s hip, clinging hard to keep them pressed tight together as he grinds himself up and forward again.

“I’m not a tease,” Daichi says against Kuroo’s throat, biting the words harsher so they’ll purr over Kuroo’s skin and hum into sensation in his veins. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” He rocks in harder, his knee catching at the wall and his thigh flush against Kuroo’s hips, and Kuroo whimpers his exhale, his breathing turning into a faint shattered whine.

“Do you want me to blow you?” Daichi suggests, lacing his words heavy with complete sincerity as Kuroo arches off the wall again, trying to push himself impossibly closer to Daichi’s support. He’s very hard inside his pajama pants; Daichi can feel the radiant heat of him straight through the too-thin fabric. “Do you want to fuck me?” Another movement, hips this time so Kuroo can feel the shape of his cock as clearly; Kuroo chokes on an inhale, his fingers twisting on Daichi’s shirt like he’s trying to gain traction.

“Or do you want me to fuck you?” Daichi suggests. Kuroo  _trembles_ , his entire body shivering against the wall, and Daichi knows he has him then. “You do,” he says, certain and so soft against Kuroo’s throat that it’s only his proximity to the other’s ear that keeps the thrum of his words audible. “You want me to open you up and fuck you right here against the wall.”

“Fuck,” Kuroo says, very faintly into the air, the admission of a loss, and Daichi smiles against his neck and tightens his hold on Kuroo’s waist.

“We don’t have any lube,” he says, softly, punctuating with a roll of his hips more for the mental image this will give Kuroo than for the friction. “I’d have to go slow with just my fingers and tongue.” Kuroo’s inhale chokes, stalling out in his throat like he’s forgotten how to breathe, and Daichi tilts his hips closer, pins Kuroo to stillness for the space of a heartbeat.

“It would take forever,” he murmurs, considering. “By the time you were ready I would be all out of patience.” His works his fingers at Kuroo’s waist, listens to the sound of the other dragging a desperate inhale as he presses his knee to the wall and steadies himself for the force he wants to exert. “I’d shove you back against the wall, just like this, maybe push one of your knees up before getting my cock into you.”

Kuroo lets his breath go in a sudden, shuddering gasp. “Oh fuck,” he says, and then, in a rush, like it’s a confession: “I’m pretty flexible.”

“Both knees, then,” Daichi suggests, picking up on this new tack as easily as if Kuroo had offered the image aloud. “I could hold you up against the wall, brace you in place while I fucked you open.” He can see it in his head, can imagine the weight of Kuroo’s legs over his arms, can hear the whimper Kuroo would make as they come together. It makes Daichi’s cock twitch, the detail of the image, the heat of the present, Kuroo’s fingers tense at the back of his neck as if he’s trying to hold himself in place under the onslaught of Daichi’s speech.

“It’d keep my hands busy,” Daichi continues, slowly, like it’s just occurred to him. “I wouldn’t be able to jerk you off like that.”

“It’s fine,” Kuroo says, panting as hard as if the fantasy is truly occurring, as if he has Daichi’s cock inside him and not just Daichi’s voice hot at his ear. “I don’t need it.”

“No?” Daichi asks, starting to smile, deliberately shifting his leg to press harder against Kuroo, to drag a half-muffled groan from the other’s lips. “You could come just from me fucking you?” Another tilt of his hips, the weight of pressure to pin Kuroo at the wall, and Kuroo’s head goes back again, his forehead tightening on a crease as if he’s in pain. “You’d like it that much?” Kuroo’s shaking, Daichi can feel it under the hold he has on the other’s waist; he lets his grip on the other’s shoulder go, lifts a hand to press his palm flush against the damp part of Kuroo’s lips as he rocks his knee closer to give the other another long drag of friction.

“How long would it take?” he asks rhetorically, framing the words to the pant of Kuroo’s breath hot against his palm. “Would you come on the first stroke, or the second, or could you make it all the way to the third?” Kuroo’s clinging to him, shaking himself apart under the brace of Daichi holding him to the wall, and his eyes are shut, his lashes pressed dark against his cheeks, his forehead tense as he strains himself towards impossible levels of tension all through his body. “How fast would you come apart for me, Tetsurou?” and Kuroo arches, his eyes coming open like he’s been shocked, and groans against the weight of Daichi’s palm as he shudders himself into orgasm. Daichi can feel the waves of heat as they run through Kuroo to leave him shaking and boneless against the wall, can feel the cling of Kuroo’s damp pants catching at his leg, and he’s breathing harder, his lungs struggling on air as all his blood goes to steam at once. He eases his hand away from Kuroo’s mouth after a moment, lets the other catch a full breath once the telltale moan has died to silence on his lips, and Kuroo manages to ease off the pressure of his fingers at Daichi’s shoulder and the back of his neck, letting the tension go as the strain in his body surrenders to trembling aftershocks.

“Oh,” he says, his voice quivering until Daichi almost doesn’t recognize it. “Fuck, that was.”

Daichi grins and ducks his head in close in pursuit of a kiss giddy on the slur of pleasure on Kuroo’s tongue, humming electric from the sight of his smirking self-control melting to the friction of Daichi’s leg. “I can’t believe you came from that,” he murmurs against Kuroo’s mouth, consideration of their location coming back with the release of the tension that has been lining Kuroo’s shoulders and marking out strain on his face. “Are you always this sensitive?”

“Are you jealous that I came first?” Kuroo manages, pulling a grin from reserves Daichi didn’t know he had and letting his hand trail off Daichi’s shoulder and over the rhythm of breathing in his chest. “I’m not going to leave you unsatisfied, Sawamura.”

“Oh?” Daichi asks, his blood going hot as Kuroo’s fingers slide over his stomach and down to the line of his hip, to the drag of his pants heavy on the elastic waistband under Kuroo’s fingers. He doesn’t look down, doesn’t break the dark eye contact Kuroo is giving him, but he does rock his weight in against the other’s touch, silent encouragement in the tilt of his body. “What did you have in mind?”

“Is anyone coming?” Kuroo asks.

Daichi doesn’t turn around to check. “No.”

Kuroo’s smile is lopsided, dragging magnetic at the corner of his mouth to draw and hold Daichi’s gaze. “Good,” he drawls. “Then I can do this” and he’s sliding down the wall, untangling himself from Daichi’s grip at his hip and the knee pressed between his with as much fluidity as if he were wholly unrestrained. His knees hit the ground, his hands catch at Daichi’s hips, and Daichi knows where this is going well before Kuroo looks up at him through the dark fall of his hair over his face.

“God,” Daichi says, and reaches out to catch his hand into Kuroo’s hair, to push the cover of it back from his face. Kuroo smiles again, suggestion and pleasure wrapped up in one shift of lips, and his fingers dip under Daichi’s waistband to slide the elastic down and free of the other’s hips. Daichi shifts his footing, braces his free hand out against the wall without looking, and Kuroo has him, is fitting his fingers in against the line of muscle along Daichi’s hips to brace him still before he comes in to take the other’s cock past his lips and over his tongue. He moves all at once, has Daichi halfway in his mouth before the other has a chance to react, and Daichi’s throat closes on the groan he wants to make, chokes him on the need for silence so all the sound he makes is a desperate hiss of air past the constriction in his throat.

Kuroo hums. There are words there, Daichi is sure of it, some taunt or laughter forming itself in the back of Kuroo’s throat, but the fire of the teasing just turns to rising heat against Daichi’s skin, the vibration of sound thrumming against his cock and up his spine like Kuroo’s lips are plugged directly into his nerve endings. Daichi’s fingers tighten at the wall, his hand slides to brace the back of Kuroo’s head, and when there’s no protest from the other he rocks his hips forward gently to slide himself an inch over Kuroo’s tongue. Kuroo’s eyelashes flutter, his stare somehow making a proposal out of the dim lighting, and when he shifts his hands at Daichi’s hips it’s only to ease his hold, to make it a guide and not a brace. He opens his mouth, meets Daichi’s gaze, and when he makes a sound it swings up at the end, a wordless query as much offer as question. Daichi spreads his fingers wide, steadies his stance, and when he rocks forward to slide into Kuroo’s mouth he’s watching the other’s expression as he does. Kuroo doesn’t flinch at the motion, doesn’t protest the depth, and when Daichi tries again his eyelashes flutter, his throat working on a faint sound that is no less encouraging for how deliberately soft it is. Kuroo tips his head back, opens his mouth wider; and Daichi takes a breath, and holds him still, and slides slow over Kuroo’s tongue and just down his throat. The air rushes out of his lungs in a gasp, Kuroo’s fingers tighten encouragement at his skin, and Daichi starts to move properly, finding a rhythm slow and steady enough for Kuroo to catch his breath between the thrusts of Daichi’s cock into his mouth. His lips are soft, his mouth warm; Daichi has no idea what he’s doing with his tongue but it’s something amazing, something that’s taking over all Daichi’s attention and leaving him with none to even appreciate how dark Kuroo’s eyes are looking up at him. His thighs are strained, his shoulder shaking from how hard he’s leaning on it, but he can’t stop, can’t even pause to catch his own breath. He’s just moving, the rhythm coming as easy and unthinking as the pace of a game, as the pattern of receives, and then Kuroo groans around him and Daichi is coming before he can think or give any kind of warning, so suddenly he blurts a resonant “ _Ah_ ” aloud into the night air before he can manage to close his mouth on the sound. Kuroo is swallowing around him, his lips tight against Daichi’s skin, and Daichi’s tipping forward against the wall, the tension in his body giving way to leave him sagging heavy against the support.

Kuroo pulls away slowly, keeping his hands at Daichi’s hips; when Daichi blinks himself back into focus Kuroo is watching him, his eyes endlessly dark and his lips pulled into that dragging smile again. He licks over them as Daichi watches, makes a show of swallowing so the other can hear his throat working. “Did we get away with it?”

Daichi turns his head away, looks out to the spill of light from windows well out of eyeshot and the absolute stillness of the space around them. He can hear sneakers squeaking on the practice courts, a yell so far-off it’s too faint to identify the speaker.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” Kuroo says. When Daichi looks down he’s tugging the other’s pants back into place, letting one hand go to wipe across his mouth with the back of his hand while his eyes offer unreadable darkness. “Should you go?”

Daichi thinks about all the places he should be, all the people he should be with, all the things he could be doing instead of this, right here, with Kuroo, his hand still lifted to cover the curve of amusement at his lips.

“Yes,” he says, and drops to his knees to stay.


End file.
